


like leaves in the wind (thus kindly i scatter)

by fictionalportal



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby Week 2019, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Meeting the Parents, i hurt my own feelings writing this :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 17:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19834687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalportal/pseuds/fictionalportal
Summary: Autumn, after the war. Blake visits Patch and meets some very important people in Yang's life.





	like leaves in the wind (thus kindly i scatter)

“Sorry about Dad,” Yang mumbled.

“It’s okay.” Blake gripped Yang’s prosthetic hand a little tighter as they walked under the canopy of fiery orange leaves. It took spending an autumn in Atlas for Yang to realize just how much she missed Patch’s vivid fall colors. The leaves were dying, she knew, but she couldn’t help but bask in the the promise that new growth would sprout in the spring, stronger and brighter than before.

Yang brushed her hair out of her face as she looked up from the dirt path towards a towering tree with barren lower branches. “He’s a little protective, I guess. Since the whole Beacon thing.”

Blake hummed in quiet understanding.

Years ago, when their wounds were still scarring, Yang might have worried about mentioning that night so casually. Even after Adam’s demise, they went on without ever quite talking about it, instead tacitly agreeing to a cautious waltz where they sidestepped any mention of right and wrong and _guilt_.

When they nearly lost each other again during Salem’s attack on Atlas, something snapped.

Yang started talking about her nightmares–-rarer, now, but there were still nights when she jolted awake certain that she was falling into nothing with only a silent scream to keep her company. Blake offered safety in her smile, in her heart, in her bed. Yang’s own willingness to bare her darkest moments so openly soon encouraged Blake to do the same, and she would sometimes recount memories of Adam’s seething smirk and caustic words. Patiently--always so patiently–-Yang would listen, reciting _it’s not your fault_ like a prayer. Eventually, Blake started to believe it. She learned to see the contradictions in his logic, the hypocrisy in the ways he criticized her and then acted himself.

Crying didn’t come easily to either Blake or Yang, both hardened by once unspeakable trauma. Finally, they dared to speak its name, and it began to wither instead of blooming. Wasn’t that the irony of it all, the necessity of making it real first? An enemy made of shadows was impossible to pin down, but one built of spilled blood and lacerated bone could fall.

Reflecting was different than fixating on the past, but Yang still found herself slipping away sometimes. A gentle pressure around her palm was always there to bring her back.

“Yang?” Blake asked, blinking. The slight, familiar raise in her eyebrows, Yang knew, meant she was waiting for an answer.

When had they stopped walking?

Blake’s hand found its way to Yang’s face, thumb stroking like a feather over her cheek. “Come back.” Her _voice_ –-like waking up wrapped in warm blankets, a first snowfall outside, untouched and inviting some brave soul to change that.

Yang shook her head. “Sorry, what?”

Blake’s lips tugged into a smile, tense and closed. Worried.

How Yang hated to see her worried.

Searching Yang’s eyes, Blake let her hand fall away. “What can I do to convince him?”

Yang’s heart clenched at the question. She’d been surprised by her father’s cold reception, but then she realized that he only knew the side of Blake that ran away. He would need time, just like Yang once did. “I’ll talk to him,” Yang promised.

A little crease engraved itself between Blake’s brows. On pure instinct, Yang’s thumb wished it away.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang started, suddenly unable and unwilling to leave even an inch between them, “I love you.” Her arms fit too perfectly around Blake’s waist for it to be anything less than a cosmic truth. “He’ll come around.”

Nodding, Blake closed her eyes and let her weight lean into Yang, foreheads meeting and lips nearly following suit.

Yang pulled back just enough to notice how Blake’s eyes put all the blazing leaves to shame. “If you’re up for it, there’s someone else I want you to meet.”

With a noticeably easier smile, Blake took Yang’s hand again and they continued down the path.

For the rest of their walk, Yang babbled about the various trees in the forest. She’d conquered some, climbing all the way too the top, but one particular oak tree had earned the title of lifelong nemesis. Its deceptively brittle branches were the reason Yang broke her arm when she was eight, and Blake could still make out the shoddily carved “DO NOT CLIMB!!” on the wide trunk. She couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a tiny, angry Yang returning to the scene with a cast, a pocket knife, and a mission.

The path continued past the line of trees, and soon they were approaching the edge of a bluff. As Blake took in the molten sunset, she understood why Yang always spoke so fondly of her home.

“I–-Wow,” Blake sputtered, unable to find better words as she stared out at the stained glass sky. Then a hand on her shoulder stole her attention.

Yang grinned, so perfectly lopsided. “Are you nervous?” She joked.

Blake’s face twisted into a frown. “Is it weird if I say yes?”

“Not at all.” Yang planted a kiss on her forehead. “She’s gonna adore you.”

Their hands joined again and Yang led them closer to the precipice. Blake scanned over the fallen leaves, finally finding a silver stone: _Thus Kindly I Scatter._

Yang stepped closer, pulling Blake to her side. “Hey, Mom. This is Blake.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> love u <3 
> 
> (follow me on tumblr if that floats your goat: somnambule-plus)


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